Alistair's gaze was drawn to a peculiar figure among the ones gathered.
A man stood there, clad in silver armor, a scepter in hand, exuding an air of nonchalance.
But it wasn't the scepter that caught Alistair's attention.
It was the silver helm, adorned with...
"Ears!"
Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing, regarded Alistair with a mix of curiosity and concern.
Moments earlier, this newly arrived Tarnished had exclaimed "ear" upon approaching him.
Then, without warning, his head transformed into a mimic chest, complete with gnashing teeth and a lolling tongue, and he brandished a rapier.
Just as Gideon prepared for confrontation, the Tarnished muttered, "No, I've finished it," and reverted to his original form.
He then approached Gideon as if nothing had occurred, initiating conversation.
Regarding the earlier transformation...
"You understand farming materials, right? There's a silver ear similar to yours. The drop rate is abysmal..."
Gideon comprehended each word, yet their combination eluded his understanding.
For Alistair, even though he had been erased from the simulation, the most vivid memory remained the arduous staircase leading to the gods before Anor Londo.
Perhaps due to the lingering spirits of Fallen Silver Knights, the foes there were unusually resilient, and the drop rate for ears was dishearteningly low.
Only after exterminating every enemy in that area did he finally obtain his thirtieth ear.
Though he secured the reward, the prolonged effort left psychological scars.
Seeing the ears on Gideon's helm rekindled memories of his past life, but he quickly regained composure.
Gideon, observing Alistair, spoke with measured tones.
Currently, you can only enter and exit the Roundtable Hold. In essence, you're a transient. Remember this and avoid overstepping."
After confirming Alistair wasn't deranged, Gideon continued.
"To truly become a member of the Roundtable Hold, follow the guidance of grace, defeat a shardbearer, and claim a Great Rune. Only then will the inner sanctum open to you, granting audience with the Two Fingers..."
"What are the Two Fingers?" Alistair inquired earnestly.
Gideon: "…?"
"You don't know about the Two Fingers?"
"Yes, I lost my memory, then I shook someone's hand and arrived here."
Though Melina had transported him here, she remained at the previous Site of Grace—a detail Alice had just conveyed to Alistair.
As for Alice, though she stood beside Alistair, she vanished after delivering the news.
Throughout, no one in the Roundtable Hold, including Gideon, seemed to notice her presence except Alistair.
"You..."
Gideon gazed into Alistair's clear eyes, untouched by knowledge's burdens, and fell silent.
"Never mind. Just remember: only after obtaining a Great Rune will you be recognized as a true member of the Roundtable Hold."
"Oh." Alistair nodded, then asked, "How many have you acquired?"
Gideon: "...I haven't obtained any."
"What about the hammer?"
Alistair turned and departed.
Seeing this confidently dressed man, exuding arrogance and feigning knowledge, one would assume he possessed all the Great Runes.
Upon inquiry, it turned out he had none. Wasn't this just empty bravado?
Watching Alistair's retreating figure, Gideon sighed deeply.
"Each generation of the Roundtable Hold seems to decline further..."
After parting from Gideon, Alistair wandered the Roundtable Hold, conversing with its inhabitants.
Diallos, a silver-armored warrior, inquired if he had seen a girl named Lanya, his missing attendant.
D, clad in peculiar armor with a helm resembling a skull, claimed to hunt Those Who Live in Death, warning Alistair of their dangers, especially when the "ship" appeared.
Brother Corhyn, a teacher of incantations, mentioned that many Tarnished recently couldn't perceive the guidance of grace. Upon learning of Alistair's amnesia, he briefly explained the concept of the Two Fingers.
However, Alistair remained perplexed. From the explanation, he gathered that acquiring a Great Rune would grant him an audience with the Two Fingers.
Wasn't this akin to exchanging souls after defeating a boss? Oh, right, it's called Remembrance here.
Subsequently, he met Smithing Master Hewg, a misbegotten captive. Distinctly non-human in appearance, he worked diligently at his anvil, forging weapons.
"Don't misunderstand; I'm not complaining. Being captured isn't your fault. I don't resent forging weapons. Regardless of who I am, I can make weapons stronger. Skill and time won't betray me..."
"Moreover, this helps me momentarily forget the terror of that master..."
After conversing with the blacksmith, Alistair descended the stairs, encountering a fog-covered door. A familiar imp statue stood beside it, but lacking a Stonesword Key, he retraced his steps, entering a room resembling a bedchamber.
He stood there, momentarily stunned.
"Shabriri?"
"Ah, fellow Tarnished, you've finally arrived."
Recognizing the familiar figure, Alistair's expression turned complex.
Why was this person here?
Previously, during their journey, Melina had discussed the Frenzied Flame with him. While with Blaidd and Seluvis, she also inquired about knowledge concerning the Frenzied Flame.
Though Alistair never fully comprehended the nature, origin, or purpose of the Frenzied Flame, he understood one thing: it was universally reviled.
Despite the disdain he faced, he still had companions like Melina and Alice. Blaidd was willing to be his friend. Even White Mask Varre, though peculiar, had provided guidance. But Shabriri...
Among all the beings he'd encountered, none held a positive view of the Frenzied Flame.
Melina deemed it "unacceptable to the world," Sellen believed it could "unite Caria and the academy," and Blaidd remarked that "if the Frenzied Flame forces emerged, the Shattering War might not even occur."
Such an individual now appeared in the Roundtable Hold...
"I can hide, too, fellow Tarnished."
Shabriri smiled subtly, raising his head to reveal a chaotic fragment beneath his neck, seemingly absorbing all color.
"Moreover, it's all thanks to you, my compatriot."
Though a madman, he had concealed himself. Yet, anyone with senses wouldn't venture into the Roundtable Hold, the domain of the Two Fingers, upholding the Golden Order.
But the mind of a lunatic...
Family, let's gaze upon the distant snow-capped mountains.
"I'm not a spirit like the witch beside you, nor do I have anywhere else to go. An empty room in the Roundtable Hold presented itself, so I took residence."
Shabriri smiled, his cloth-covered, vacant eyes fixed on Alistair.
"And I knew you'd come here, and the maiden wouldn't accompany you. So, if there's something you'd rather she not know, this is the ideal place."
Alistair looked puzzled. "What's there that she shouldn't know?"
"A great deal," Shabriri replied softly. "For instance, your true nature, my existence, her destiny..."
He paused, then shook his head.
"But now isn't the time for such discussions."
"I'll wait here, anticipating the rekindling of my compatriots, the return of the stars, the unfolding of fate..."
"When all aligns, chaos will descend, and fire will consume fire."
He gazed at Alistair with a mysterious tone.
"I eagerly await that day."
Another riddler, huh?
Alistair's mouth twitched as he exited the room.
Upon leaving, Smithing Master Hewg, chained beside the door, spoke.
"You just entered that room?"
"What's the matter?" Alistair asked. "Is there something wrong with it?"
"No, that's not what I meant..."
Hewg hesitated.
"It's just that the room had been vacant, unwanted. But since a peculiar woman entered, the door hasn't opened again, and no one can enter..."
Alistair raised an eyebrow.
So, she's occupying someone else's room? No wonder everyone seeks to punish this madwoman.
"I understand. I'll be cautious."
After thanking Hewg for the reminder, Alistair wandered the Roundtable Hold once more. The hall was quiet now, its denizens retreating to their corners or fading into silence. He came upon a statue, its face long since worn away, with its body cracked by time and heat. At its feet sat an assortment of items for sale.
He studied them. Runes danced faintly over the relics: consumables, talismans, remnants of ancient sorceries. But his pockets were empty. The runes he had earned were already spent—burned away on sorcery lessons from Sellen and indulging his curiosity with the Hound's Fang. Now, all he could do was gaze at the goods with longing, fingers twitching but helpless.
He turned away.
Enough had been seen. It was time to leave.
Recalling what Brother Corhyn had told him, Alistair made his way toward the Grand Blessing in the center of the hall. A spiral of golden light curled from the stone, humming like breath through a crypt. As he reached out to touch it, a voice called out from the shadows.
"Oh, by the way, there's one more thing I forgot to tell you."
It was D, the hunter of the dead. His armor glinted cold, its helm crowned with bone, a second grimacing face carved across his chestplate.
Alistair turned. "What is it?"
D raised his head, his voice grave.
"In addition to Those Who Live in Death, there is another figure you must be wary of."
"A Deathbed Companion named Fia. She once pledged herself to the Golden Order, but turned against it. Now she walks in shadow, a knight draped in death, seeking to guard the still hearts of those beyond salvation."
Alistair listened in silence.
"She wields a cursed weapon. It does not simply kill, it stains the spirit. Her blade binds the souls of those it slays, dragging them into undeath. If you ever sense her presence, do not engage. Only the Holy Law can purge the corruption she spreads."
"I understand," Alistair said, his voice low.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, something ancient passed between them. Not words, not thoughts, but the recognition of a war too old to have been spoken aloud.
Then Alistair turned back to the Grand Blessing. The golden tendrils curled around his hand. Light engulfed him.
He vanished.
And the Roundtable Hold, the sanctum of the Tarnished, returned to its hush.
***
Check out the "A Silent Voice: My Childhood Friend Is Nishimiya Shoko" if you like wholesome romance + slice of life.